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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26252029">Saiouma Week September 2020 - Sfrogplus</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SfrogPlus/pseuds/SfrogPlus'>SfrogPlus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Also Carpet, Carpet, Dancing, Dispiar Desease, Domestic, I post shit things here also why is everyone on a certain server finding out about this, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Short, Social mdeia what the fuck is social media, Suicide mention but it doesn't happen and was just a red herring to being Shuichi over, THERES NOT CARPET IN THIISSSSSSSSSS, This is just me as a mess like usual and everyone I know finds out about this, WTF is appretian day, Watermelons are kinda, Weied</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:07:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,772</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26252029</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SfrogPlus/pseuds/SfrogPlus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Saiouma Week September 2020 by me. Not sure what I'm doing. But I'm doing something.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Domestic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The early mornings, in the crystal graze of the sun staring down into their bedroom (</span>
  <em>
    <span>their </span>
  </em>
  <span>bedroom. He takes a deep breath in and sighs), dark grey sheets turned into a clutter, pillows thrown somewhere to the side as the two compile into a mess of limbs in the middle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's endearing almost; Saihara grunts in a sign he's still alive, shifting his hand to brush past Ouma's cheek softly as though they are lovers (and he can't deny or confirm). And of course, he relaxes under his touch like he's clay dripping under sweltering heat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grey eyes open, a hint of yellow swirling inside and Ouma just wants to look away. (He doesn't, of course, because he's enraptured by the beauty of an emotionally broken person.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saihara yawns before saying good morning in a small mutter, a small smile breaking loose on his face. "Kokichi." His name, so fragile on Saihara's tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ouma gives him a strained smile and in a sweet, polished voice he whispers back, "Shumai."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saihara sighs as though he's drowning in water and has given up, letting fate seal what is left of him. "I love you, so, so much, Kokichi…" Saihara's head sinks low to Ouma's chest. In silence, Ouma admits Saihara is warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... I love you too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ouma cannot deny or confirm if that's a lie.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Despair Disease</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Edit: ah</p><p>Fuck, i got called out in a server because someoen in it saw my title. It was spelled wrong. Spare me, it was 1 am in the morning I was full throttle tired ok__________________________________________</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The day was burning, the sun up bright in the air and everyone’s (everyone. Twelve people left. One person excluded) heads were hung low; the smell of blood in the gym was clear. But even so, four people gone, the sun persists on a hard drive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saihara sighs with his head light and dizzy, leaning over Ouma with a glare in his eyes. He feels undeniably sick, his cheeks burning up and he can't stop thinking about how much he just wants to take Ouma's hair and pull on it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, his fingers intertwine with Ouma's hair and stares for a moment long and hard, before planting a kiss on the liar (and for some reason, he doesn't think too much about it. Rather, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>can't).</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Kokichi</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ouma gazes up with blank eyes distilled with a mixture of emotions, hands still at his side, before pushing Saihara away and running off into the distance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Saihara laughs at that, brushing up his bangs as he stares up at the sky. Warm and bright, though he feels too dizzy to see everything clearly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>__________________________________________</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <span>—</span>
  <span>Despair Disease!" The words rang in his ear like a hollow conformation (A hollow confirmation? Confirmation? Saihara swears he's going insane).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Momota's mouth is agape while Harukawa rubs against Shinguji like a cat, Yumeno with a sickeningly saccharine smile on her face as she rubs salt into her arm. Saihara smiles at that, thinking how wondrously funny this all is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the black and white bear (Saihara thinks for a moment about its name, before stopping) disappears with a heavy glint in its eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saihara starts, voice loud and clear as he hisses every word, "So... It's obvious Maki</span>
  <span>—" Harukawa falls over, a loud thunk as she hits the ground before she starts shaking, eyes going wide like a cat. "and Himiko has it as well. That leaves one more person." Yumeno smiles at him, her hat tilted up like it's about to fall. It will. It will because Saihara will punch it off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What!? Why are the girls the only target? And </span>
  <em>
    <span>hey!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Don't use their</span>
  <span>— their given name, you degenerate male." Characters screech under her breath, though her voice is tired and worn-out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... One more person? What do you mean, sidekick?" Momota asks, frowning, "Come on! Let's think more positive! We'll all get through this together, won't we!?" He grins, plastering a thumbs-up next to his face. Saihara wants to put that thumb in Momota's mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saihara shrugs, "Three… sounds like a good number. I bet Kokichi has the Despair Disease." His words are quick, because there's no reason to think. He rubs the back of his neck, dripping with sweat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Pardon me, if I may ask, but why do you have the suspicion that Ouma-kun has the Despair Disease?" Shinguji asks, hand covered in wrapped-up bandages raises (And he doesn't question why he uses Ouma's first name, as though it were a mystery already unlocked)t. Ouma's eyes flicker between Saihara and Shinguji in the silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because he's really, really… warm…" Saihara shuts his eyes, head exaggeratingly heavy as he feels himself drift to sleep in an instance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>__________________________________________</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The world is a blur, as he opens his eyes in a careful manner, his head burning up and he feels sickeningly warm for his own self to handle. The room itself is dark with the lights turned off, though very faintly Saihara can see piles of boxes and strange souvenirs in the room, scattered in almost a curious arrangement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would question it if he was thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was not thinking (he's not in the right mind right now, he knows. Saihara isn't sure if he cares enough).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's somebody in the corner, their shadow stopping too short.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ouma.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It mutters a good night, before leaving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saihara sighs, before the world disappears again.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>O_O</p><p>I'm not sure what I was doing, but I think I was doing something.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I don't fucking know what prompt this was but I think I was trying to make it as SOCIAL MEDIA</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dez</p><p>Don't read this.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They're been lovers for four years. Four years. Four years of pain, brutal love, and days and days where they would try and mend their relationship. And what the fuck does Saihara get back?</p><p>A reddit post from Ouma's account about how much he wants to die.</p><p>It's not even hit him yet, because they just said goodnight to each other a few <em> seconds ago and what the fuck is going on in that insane lover he has. </em></p><p>Saihara furrows his brows after rereading it and glares, hard. He throws on a jacket and heads outside.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"Kokichi..? Kokichi, please open up!" Saihara's voice is desperate, and has tired from running. He still persists. He <em> has to, because of OumaisdeadthenSaiharathinks- </em>(he isn't sure what he would do).</p><p>The door cracks open, barely by a crack and Saihara steps into the quiet apartment.</p><p>Silence.</p><p>Nobody.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>Saihara panics when he opens the bedroom door, a man on the floor with pink liquid oozing out of his head, laying still. It's <em> his man, lying cold on the floor and oh god oh god oh god- </em></p><p>An abrupt force slamming him down hard that makes Saihara feel sick.</p><p>"It's a lie!" Ouma yells with a wide grin on his smile.</p><p>Saihara's heart stops.</p><p>"Anyways," Ouma says as though it were the casual thing to do, pulling out a black, small box from his pocket. "Here! I thought you'd like this." Saihara shuts his eyes, opens them, and swears he's going to die one day from shock.</p><p>"But that's toootally a lie..!-"</p><p>"You fucking jerk. Shitty assume. Motherfucking piece of fuck." Saihara recites, leaving Ouma a little frazzled as he glances at the black box. He sighs, muttering something about if Ouma was actually bleeding or not before checking the box.</p><p>His eyes widen too late in realization and if it's a fucking ring he-</p><p>It's not.</p><p>Instead, it's some weird price of paper with random odd numbers splayed across.</p><p>He raises an eyebrow at his boyfriend, who is smirking up at him with arms wrapped around Saihara's chest. "You know, you're soooo- so, so, so, so hot when you aren't yourself!" Saihara blushes. "Ah, but that doesn't mean you aren't cute, my amazing wonderful second-in-command." </p><p>It takes a moment for Saihara to speak again after hearing those cringy lines. "I'm not your secon… Please just answer."</p><p>"Hm… it's my password to my porn account!" Saihara stares, "Just kidding! Lol, you should have seen the look on your face!" Ouma cackles a laugh.</p><p>"D-Did you just say lol out loud… Um, anyways… I guess I should- should I go?" Saihara glances once more at the dried pink near Ouma's face. <em> It's actual blood. </em></p><p>"Nah, just stay the night with me. Plus, then, we can do-" Ouma's voice turns suggestive and uncomfortably so when there is pink dripping onto Saihara's shirt. "Okay, okay fine. I'll get rid of that post and we can watch a movie. Like… HORSE A and GEMINI B. Or something."</p><p>"Sure…" Saihara nods, eyes on pink.</p><p>"Also Shubaby? CargiKLWno."</p><p>Saihara looks down at Ouma's eyes, furrowing his brows. "What..?"</p><p>"Remember it!" Ouma shouts. Before planting a kiss on Saihara's face.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"Will you marry me?"</p><ul>
<li>CargiKLWno, password {XXXX}, a file on Ouma's phone.</li>
</ul><p>One day Saihara swears he's going to die one way or another by Ouma.</p><p>But that will have to wait.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Dancing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey carl...</p><p>Um</p><p>Why is everyone I know on THE AMAZING WRITER, ONE OF MY FIRST BOOKMARKS OUT OF LIKE, 25, MANGO-SAN's server suddenly finding out about this</p><p>Also, check out Everyone's Killing Reality by them it's fucking gold</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Come on Shumai! Show me those skills." Ouma grins, the obnoxious noise of some vocaloid song Ouma thinks is a bop charging at their ears in the background. Saihara groans, covering his pink tinted face with his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do I have to..?" He mutters, as Ouma prys Saihara's hands off his own face. "I mean, we could just have a normal night and look at some cat pictures..? Maybe..?" As pleasing as the thought is, Ouma doesn't seem to take the bait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ouma pouts with an abrupt change in his face, hands on his hips. "I'll kick you off the bed tonight if you don't decide to dance! Or maybe that's a lie, and instead I'll hide toothpaste in your coffee!" Saihara shivers at the thought of the paled mint-flavored in his coffee, or having the grape-scented toothpaste Ouma uses anywhere near his food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"O-Okay…" Saihara stutters, a little more voluntary to dance all of a sudden. "Er… Couldn't you ask someone else?" Saihara has a hopeful face, that perhaps if he can convince Ouma to invite someone else over, he can get out of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But to no avail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Whaa~at!? No, no, no! I want my beloved and if I can't have him, I'm going to kiss you in front of everyone tomorrow." Saihara pales at that, the thought of Ouma actually doing something other than just cuddling with everyone in front of their friends is a little frightening, especially including the factor of Iruma's mouth and Momota's indecisive thoughts on Ouma and Saihara's relationship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, okay… Um… now, h-how do I..?" Saihara's face breaks into an awkward smile. "Y-You know…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ouma has a curious face as he stares into his boyfriend's gambogiesh grey eyes, waiting for him to elaborate. He doesn't, of course, face a rose pink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know..? Oh! Are we going to be doing ball-style dancing? Oh my god, I've always wanted to do that with you!" Ouma squeals in excitement. "Maybe in some Alternate Universe, where I am but a phantom thief and you are a detective." Ouma's arms wrap around Saihara's waist with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Kokichi… I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> a detective. It's my job…" Saihara says, before laughing lightly, "I meant… um, oh god, I'm going to sound like a shy highschooler..." Ouma laughs at that. "But, um, I don't know how to dance Kichi."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ouma pauses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the song rewinds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"K-Kichi?" Saihara hesitantly asks, a hand reaching out to Ouma's face. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Wait." </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ouma breaths, eyes wide. "S-So wait, I'm the first person you'll dance with? Like, ever?" Saihara does a slow nod. "Oh my Oh my fucking god. You sound like a shy virgin highschooler."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saihara sputters, "I-I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>23,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kokichi…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ouma laughs at that. "This is fucking gold… Okay, I'll teach you. Just follow along with me and you'll get the hang of it." Saihara frowns, but he nods. "Oh, and beloved? I love you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I-I… love you too." </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Rain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I wrote this in 5 minutes spare me the details.  Also, can butter burn? Because if so, I'm butter. No.</p><p>Butter on pancakes.</p><p>Hehe</p><p>Pancakes. God they're great. They're a bot. Anyways, what the fuck is this summary</p><p>Sorry, people subscribed to me</p><p>Ouch I must shit a lot in my summaries</p><p>Wow</p><p>Hehe</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>3 updates in one day and they're all horribly written.</p><p>Also I hate chapter 3 </p><p>A lot of threes.</p><p>Fuck</p><p>Wait holy shit this chapter is so short I'm sorry.</p><p>But then again I'm short</p><p>So</p><p>I mean, it's slightly logical in frog and waffle logic???</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It's raining.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not outside, but inside the small apartment Saihara and Ouma share, raining in the fish tank they bought because they can't have any animals in their cozy apartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Water droplets fall down as Saihara empties out a water bottle into the tank, and with the soothing noise of water falling Ouma glances over from the loveseat they bought, a pale grey with a yellow blanket covering Ouma like a burrito.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unspoken words ring through the air as Saihara throws the bottle away with a sigh, glancing over at their bright red fish seemingly content in its own world before heading over to hug Ouma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ouma reciprocates with a small jump into Saihara's arm, like a living breathing cat that can't seem to figure out how to stop loving. And Saihara leans forward, into the tight hug. They stare at each other for a moment, a small smile on both of their faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's raining, outside, they realize; the soothing noise of rain droplets hitting the ground as they breathe in each other's warmth.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Appreciation Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Side note,  I called my doc file for this Appretian day. On another note, what does that mean. Like, I wrote something for this day, yeah, but I have no idea what it means.</p><p>On my third note of the day, my writing in this Saiouma Week is <em>wack</em></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Holy fuck— I'm cute." Ouma mutters in the mirror that leans against their white walls, since Saihara couldn't decide whether he thought beige would fit and Ouma couldn't decide whether the walls painted purple would fit his aesthetic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saihara, leaning against a pillow with a long-sleeved grey shirt, grimaced at his lover's words. "Kokichi… you say that every day. And every day, you always kick Iruma-san." Ouma is still looking in the mirror as he adds in a mutter, "plus, you have me, don't you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A beat. A full beat passes before Ouma speaks and of course, true to his nature. "Wow. That's gay, Shumai." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saihara scoffs at that, "Every day is appreciation day to you I swear…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ouma rolls his eyes at that, scooting closer to Saihara, "At least I'm hot." He says on a breathy whsiper, though that is debatable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're…" Saihara pauses, "cute. Cute, but not hot."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey..! I'll let you know I have a secre—" Ouma starts, poiting one finger up as though theat would signify he had greater power over the detective. "A-Are you laughing at me!? How </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare </span>
  </em>
  <span>you!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I-I—" Saihara falls into a hole of laughter. "S-Sorry, Kichi. It's just, I really love you, you know?" Ouma stares at Saihara for a second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course I know that! Who wouldn't have the dignity to love me?" Ouma all of a sudden shouts, pulling Saihara into a hug. "Well, I'll spare you now, but later who knows if I'll kill you or not!?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saihara melts into the hug, "Hm… I'll be waiting then."</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Unfinished / Free day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What did I do for day seven. </p><p>Post actual good work I like after redoing it and testing my skills? Nah, never. </p><p>Post unfinished work? ALWAYS. EVERY SINGLE TIME I OCT SOMETHING. EXAACLTY. I have so many unfisiniehd drafts in my thing it's not even funny.</p><p>Anyways, have fun reading one of my unfinished drafts.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I couldn't care less about this peice so have at it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>"Please, just kill me already." Their starved voice makes Saihara swear they're alive, there, sitting across the metal-lined tables leaning on their hands with a pout. He swears because he can't stop seeing them everywhere, in every fucking little corner his thoughts dwindle to a speculation of the ghost.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Saihara feels like he's drowning.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They're not real, they're not real, they're not fucking real. Saihara whispers to himself as he lifts up his chopsticks. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It can't be.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Voices, high in the air and so, so familiar yet he can't quite grasp it. They make him go insane. (Insanity isn't pretty. So please look away.) "Saihara-kun, don't you wanna know how it would feel to kill me? To put your pretty long fingers around my neck? To see as I run out of breath in my final moments and die?" The ghost in front of him laughs, a maniac as always.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(As always, they're dead, they don't </span>
  </em>
  <span>exist, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and get that through your fucking lousy head Saihara. They're </span>
  </em>
  <span>gone.)</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The ghost in front of him smiles, and he isn't sure how to describe that broken, torn-up look on their face as that horrid look of despair in their eyes grows; frustration, madness, insanity.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Saihara's describing it wrong.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because there is nothing to describe, because nobody is there.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nobody.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Saihara is going insane as he counts the miniscule dots traced with blood on his cafeteria tray. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So much blood, the red overflowing his vision with screeching noises to just stop, to not look, to… breathe, in and out, as he looks up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nobody is there. Only a small blood splatter left in an empty seat that leaves Saihara feeling sick.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And he wakes up once more, wishing he'd rather not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saihara's dreams always leave him with an empty burden. His hands feel heavy, holding nothing but air and grasping nothing but the small specks of airborne dust. His head is weighted, thoughts too intertwined with each other and yet always, </span>
  <em>
    <span>always thinking about that stupid person that he can't stop seeing and he's drowning again, rope around his neck with a tightened--</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In and out. In and out. His breathing slows as his mind unreels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The feeling around his neck loosens, (still there. It's always there, because he can't forget. He can't forget his one true </span>
  <b>@%&amp;!</b>
  <span>.) and with a somber sigh, he forces himself up for another day. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Another day of living and pretending.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His clothes are ruffled, of course they are, but he doesn't feel keen on changing. It's just work anyways. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wake up, go to the coffee store, go to work. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Just work. And that is all there is to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heads out in the clothes he slept in, glancing at a mirror. He looks away, but his thoughts still take over with their everlasting paranoia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(They're behind, leaning next to him in that cold-cased mirror. But not really, since he's pretending he's seeing things again and he's fine because he swears that he doesn't see their smile or that beautiful face he fell in </span>
  <b>@%&amp;! </b>
  <span>with. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Because no one is even there.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It's cold weather out but he doesn't pay attention to the cold breeze, the hollow noises of someone whispering in his ear again and it's not real it's not actually happening and he's </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay, he doesn't need help. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And the bell on top of the coffee shop's door rings a loud noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hello, welcome to Ki..!" He stops paying attention. Someone by the counter is talking, he isn't sure what though; he's just so tired for some strange reason and his eyes droop to the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He mutters his order and pulls out some money. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>/</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's cute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ouma stares at the man walking in, not quite fit for the weather but </span>
  <em>
    <span>that's not the fucking problem because look at those goddamn eyelashes holy shit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>A moment passes, and then another before the man approaches the counter with tired eyes and a draining atmosphere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Haha. Funny situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ouma doesn't actually work here, and isn't even behind the shitting counter. (He looks over the desk and indeed so, the counter is not shitting for your spectacular information.) But </span>
  <em>
    <span>woah. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This guy was a real piece of eye candy, for sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grey tinted some sort of pale-ass yellow eyes with long lashes, hair cut at his nape and talking down his ear that would be so easy to touch. His outfit is ruffled, no shit, but it's cute how disorganized the man seems to be, pale face blushing a rosy tint from the cold weather outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hello, welcome to Kiss me please emo because god you look hot as fuck!" Ouma introduces with the best jolly voice he can make, brushing a strand of his hair behind his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mmn… the usual." The guy mutters, uninteractive to the name of the place Ouma just said. Instead, he drops his eyes to the floor (not literally, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>ew)</span>
  </em>
  <span> and passes a one hundred dollars bill. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holy fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll get right to that, cutie!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That's a lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, Ouma orders from the poor lady who seemed transfixed on being confused rather than speaking up. "So yeah, that was my best bud. He gets like that in the morning, you know. Anyways, he wants a Mermaid Frappochino today and I'll have my purple drink. No questions asked, okay?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ouma slides a ten to the confused spectator. Winks, and sits down next to the hot guy who doesn't even seem to notice, and watches as those eyes try to stay open. It's quite ironic since his last crush had longer eyelashes. (He has, like a thing for them let him chill.) Ah, but Amami refused him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so oh well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man shuffles when the door opens, rubbing his arms as a blast of cold air comes in. He doesn't seem focused on that, no, but rather something Ouma can't see. Or perhaps, </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>(How fucking spetacular. God, just pass me a gay already.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey there! So, I noticed you're feeling rather twisty-bitty cold, huh? Here, you can have my--" bright pink fluffy jacket that's way too big, "wonderful emo jacket! Since it would fit you riiight up." Ouma says, because he wears like, four other jackets at the same time because he likes to be a little warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(No, actually, scratch that. Ouma's burning up in this hellhole he created.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man abruptly looks up with a baffled look on his face. Ouma almost laughs at how comical that is. "Er… thank you. I have been a little cold, now that you mention it." He says, but he's avoiding Ouma's fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>gaze. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"No problem!" Ouma chirps, handing off his horrid coloured jacket to the man who wouldn't suit it very much. And much like expected, it really didn't. Bright horrid colours of flamingos on white on black on pretty. Well, it fit slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plus the guy in </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span> seems pretty satisfied now, so who is Ouma to complain?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And if you want to give it back, just give this number a lil' tap to that cute brain of yours, 'kay?" Ouma continues, before sitting up and taking his purple drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaves, putting Mr. Emo bewildered and confused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>/</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A strange event; new in both a tasteful and distasteful satisfaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grasps at the given jacket, before trying to reach for any given number.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>None. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Saihara frowns as he glances back down at the jacket, and to his sudden surprise it's a horrible bright pink that glares into his face. He's not sure whether he should feel special that he didn't notice or special that someone thought to give it to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Pale ghastly skin, purple hair framing his face, doll eyes dull. He feels like he should recognize the person who came up to him. He doesn't, with drowsy eyes staring into the pink jacket. He really, really doesn't.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Saihara glances around to try and look for them (there's shouting in his ear, he really can't focus. But he's trying not to pay attention to them, that sickening sweet voice signing in his ears like a dose of poison.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glances down at his drink, brightly coloured. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not his usual. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He's that worker here. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But Saihara takes another quick look to see no one, not even a strand of purple in this hue of living people. Saihara's head rings an alert, before he shakes it away and heads to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has other things to do than wait for a prince to save him, after all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Well, that last part might be a lie."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>That's gay, Ouma.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Have a good day!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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